


After the Will

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: If only Ron hadn’t barged in. Things might have gone so much differently.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	After the Will

“So, then I thought, I’d like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you’re off doing whatever you’re doing.”

“I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.”

“There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for,” she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one her long, sweet-smelling hair–

“ _Ron!_ ” came Hermione’s voice from outside the door. “That is _not_ your room.”

“But… Harry,” was Ron’s response.

Harry and Ginny were still. She was the only thing in his vision, a statue of amazing beauty, blazing fierceness, her eyes wide at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“This is between them, not you.”

“He’s messing her about, I know it!”

“ _She_ pulled _him_ into _her_ room, Ronald. This is _her_ choice, in a place _you_ are not invited.”

Harry had never been happier to have Hermione as a best friend. Without removing his eyes from Ginny, he reached for his wand and flicked a locking charm at the door. He then grinned when he realized she had done the same thing.

Together, they laughed a joyful, thankful, hesitant laugh, their eyes drilling into each others. And then, as if the flick of a switch, they were kissing once again. He held her in his arms, desperately, the thoughts of their breakup and the reasons still haunting him, threatening to drive him from this perfect moment.

Ginny’s hands, in contrast, were not around him, but rather between them, sliding slowly towards the waist of his trousers.

“Gi… Ginn-” he tried to mumble through their enjoined lips.

“Shhh,” was her response.

Her hands loosened their way into his trousers, brushing against his penis and tickling, cupping at his bollocks.

Harry sucked in a breath and jumped back. This was further than anything they did while dating, and as much as he wanted to, his brain was yelling at him that they were no longer together and he was running away soon.

But Ginny stood there, a smirk on her flushed, swollen lips.

“Do you know what this is, Harry?” she asked, taking a single step toward him with her hip cocked.

“I… uh… what?” he managed to ask. “What _what_ … is?”

“It’s a wedding, Harry. Do you know what people do at weddings, Harry?”

“Get… uh, married?”

“Do you know what the _other_ people do at weddings?”

He was lost. He had no idea what she was getting at. His body was fighting him – part of him wanted her desperately, the other to run and not take this any further.

“Harry,” she said, another step taken. “People ‘hook up’ at weddings. They enjoy themselves and each other and make mistakes, or maybe they’re not mistakes.”

Another step backwards, away from the advancing red head and he could feel her bed at the back of his legs. Ginny, though, was still moving forward, her hips locking back and forth with each step, her shoulders exhibiting a shimmy.

“Please, Harry,” she asked softly, stepping right back into his space. “For once in your life, be the irresponsible teenager. Do the stupid thing because you want to, damn the consequences.”

She was now eye to nose with him, and he looked down into her deep, brown eyes, promising him everything.

“You do want to, right?”

His throat felt dry, he suddenly couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. He tried to nod his head, but the smell of her this close seemed to lock him in place.

Ginny reached up, around, and placed her hand on the back of his head. She didn’t pull. She didn’t move close. This was on him.

Their lips slammed together once more, and he couldn’t remember making the decision. But this was everything he wanted right here and right now. Her one hand remained behind his head, holding him to her, while her other repeated its journey into his trousers. As she grabbed him in his pants, the solid rigidity that he instantly grew to felt at once the entirety of his being and something else separate from him.

“Gi… Gin-” he managed to get out before she was no longer holding him, no longer kissing him.

Her eyes were blazing, drilling into the very being of him, and then she placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved. The bed directly behind him, he couldn’t even step back, and his arms pinwheeled that might, generously, be referred to as gracefully as toppled backwards onto her mattress, just barely avoiding smacking his head on the wall.

Kneeling, Ginny was now between his legs, still spread from his inelegant fall, and grabbed the waist of his leg-wear.

“I want this, too, Harry. And I intend to enjoy it.”

With that, she yanked back, instantly freeing him. He might have been embarrassed. He might have shriveled immediately. But he didn’t. She didn’t let him. In a breath, she was grasping him with one hand, the other brushing her fingertips lightly, tickling, just a bit lower. The sensation was instantaneous, coalescing just up, triggering lightning through his body.

He almost came right there. And again when Ginny moved in close, studying ever so briefly what he looked like. He was almost a goner when her tongue flicked out, licking his underside, just beneath his tip. And he did lose it when her mouth, warm and luscious, engulfed the end of him. He felt it for only a moment before he cried out, releasing in pulsing waves of pleasure.

And when he was done, when he fell back into the mattress trying to catch his breath, waiting for that feeling of relaxation to fall upon him, it didn’t. Because Ginny wasn’t done. She continued to suck at him. Her mouth never left him. Her tongue licked and rubbed, swirled and coaxed in sensations he had never experienced before. Maybe it was seconds. Maybe it was minutes. It could have been hours and he wouldn’t have cared.

He stayed up. He wanted more.

And apparently, so did she. She stood.

“And now, the rest of the present,” she said, “for you to remember.”

“Gin… I… You don-”

“Shut the bloody fuck up, Potter.” She leveled her gaze with his, cutting off any further protests he could make. “I’m giving you a birthday present. Something to take with you. Something to remind you what _you are coming back_ to. You’re going to bloody well enjoy it!”

Harry was left staring. Her eyes blazed. Her red hair shone. Her normally pale skin was flushed, camouflaging the presence of her freckles. She lifted one knee, sliding it onto the mattress just by his hip. Her other knee followed, next to his other hip. She was straddling him, her skirt (how had he not noticed her skirt?) spread over him. He could feel the warmth of her and realized with a start that she was not wearing knickers.

Her slick skin rubbed up against him. Over him. She slid back and forth, tiny waves of giant pleasure traveling from their contact all through him; and from the look on her face, all through her as well.

Reaching down, she slid her hand under her skirt, and Harry felt her grab hold. It was gentle, yet firm, and her eyes never left his. And then there was a wet warmth. It engulfed him, first at the tip, as her eyes went wide. Then she moved her hips, and he slipped further into the greatest joy he had known while her eyelids fluttered, almost in time with the fluttering he felt in her.

Finally, they were joined. Her eyes burned into his, the distinctive brown becoming almost black as she gave him the greatest gift ever. They were together, her first time; and his. This was something to come back to.

She was moving again. Rocking her hips, he slid from her, feeling her tremble around him, before he was enveloped in her once more. Her eyes were now having trouble holding to his, and she was whimpering, her breath hitching with tiny, cute even, vocalizations.

This was all that mattered. Here and now. With Ginny. Girlfriend or not. Responsible or not. This would forever be all that mattered. Not the war, not the prophecy, not expectations.

Ginny screeched out atop him, shuddering, locked in place and squeezing him.

Then she fell forward, her hands on his chest, holding herself upright. She stared at him, all passion and desire, and he knew he needed more.

With a roll of his hip, he flipped her to the mattress. She looked up at him with even more fire, begging him to go further, to take her. He didn’t need her to tell him that, her expression said it all. So he did.

He had slipped out of her during their change of position, but not all the way, and now he buried himself back in, lust filling him to bursting. Ginny had hers, now was for him. He thrust repeatedly into her, his hips slapping, smacking into her. Each time, Ginny would cry out, screeching, calling for more, begging to Harry and Merlin. On he went, lust and fire building within him, concentrating just outside of her.

And then he came. Pouring everything into her. They were one. His fears, the future, none of it could stand against them. He would be coming back to her.

He collapsed this time, just barely managing to roll off her side, pressed against her as her arms wrapped him tightly, squeezing against the fear that he was going away. He felt it all.

Minutes, hours, days, he didn’t know how long it was, melded with Ginny on her childhood bed, in her parents’ house, but finally, she said, sultrily, into his ear, “Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” he managed to get out. “So much. For everything.”

“Was this worth coming back to?”

“More than you know.” He wasn’t sure how to broach it, but now that they were done, he didn’t know what it meant for them, for what he had done. “Does this… for us… I mean-”

“Harry, love, whether we are officially dating or not, do you think others don’t know what I mean to you? I’ll play my part. You do what you need to do. But when it’s over, and we’ve won,” there was no doubt in her voice, “I’ll be here for you.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Together, they lay on the bed for a while longer, before he felt her arms relax, ever so slightly, and their time together was over.

They sat next to each other on the edge of the bed, straightening their clothing, trying their best to get the wrinkles out. It was mostly useless, but they tried anyway.

Together, they stood, picked up their wands, and opened the door to the room, ready for whatever the coming war would bring.

Outside the door, they found _every_ one standing there, gaping. Ginny’s brothers seemed to want to glare at Harry, but instead were shuffling their feet, avoiding the gaze of their little sister. Molly was red faced, while Arthur was bemused. Even Fleur was there, a knowing smirk on her face.

“What,” Molly started sharply, before anyone else could utter a word, “were the two of you doing in there?!”

Harry realized that they had locked the door, but hadn’t cast any charms to block sounds. There was no way Mrs. Weasley didn’t know what they had been up to. But this was the best day of his life, and there was he was not going to have it ruined. He was irresponsible, just as Ginny asked, and it was the best thing he had ever done.

Years later he would swear he still didn’t know what possessed him, Harry explained quite obviously, “It’s a wedding.”

The silence was audible.

Mrs. Weasley turned even more red, if it were possible.

Mr. Weasley cracked a grin.

Charlie tripped while standing still and fell against the wall.

Mrs. Weasley turned even more red.

Ron stared, his mouth falling open.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.

Mrs. Weasley turned even more red, her mouth opened, though she struggled to speak.

Fleur grinned, grabbing her fiance’s hand tightly.

The twins began to laugh hysterically.

Mrs. Weasley turned even more red, her tirade exploding from her, “ _Ginevra Molly Weasl-_ ”

A silver lynx landed between the couple and the family. Its mouth opened, and in a familiar basso stated, “Voldemort has fallen.”

The entire group was once again silent, staring at the fading feline. In the midst of what was going on, Voldemort seemed almost unimportant. Their world could very well have just changed, and no one cared because Harry and Ginny had just had sex. The thought struck Harry as completely ridiculous. In spite of everything, Harry was still more important, and his life more interesting, than Lord bloody Voldemort.

He laughed, almost a bark, escaping from his throat. He and Ginny had just ‘hooked up’, and he was supposed to care about Voldemort.

The lynx reappeared, this time announcing, “I’m on the way, make sure Harry is there.”

Under a momentary reprieve, everyone made their way down to the kitchen, the table set with plates of finger sandwiches and pitchers of juice for everyone to eat as the day went on and preparations were made for the wedding. They sat at the table, Mrs. Weasley passing plates to everyone, just as Kingsley came through the front door.

“Good! Good,” he said upon seeing everyone at the table. “I assume my message was received?”

Everyone nodded, though Molly continued glaring at her daughter.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kingsley asked.

“No, it’s fine, Shack,” said Arthur. “Just a family thing.”

“He’s not interrupting because it’s already done!” Fred whispered to his twin.

“Wonderful!” said Kingsley, apparently unaware of the brother’s comment. “So, as the message stated, Voldemort has fallen. We’re still trying to put the pieces together. Voldemort was _in_ the Ministry building, hiding, giving instructions to his followers in the bureaucracy as far as we can tell. Suddenly, he began moaning, fell to the floor, and soon he was screaming in pain. It was loud enough to draw the attention of some Aurors loyal to the Ministry who hadn’t been weeded out yet.

“After fighting their way through Voldemort’s faithful, one of them walked up to him and cast a cutting curse at his neck. There was a kill on sight allowance for Voldemort. We were worried that we might lose the chance to end him by trying to take him into custody only to have him overpower our forces.

“I know Albus mentioned he was working with you, Harry. Do you know what may have happened?”

Everyone at the table now stared directly at Harry, who himself was staring incredulously at Ginny’s knowing smirk.

“Uh…” said Harry. “Yeah?”

“Harry!” said Hermione sharply, cutting off Kingsley. “What about the you-know-whats?”

“Right,” agreed Harry. “Are you certain that Voldemort is actually dead this time?”

“It’s interesting you ask that, Harry,” answered Kingsley. “His shade left his body, visibly, and then ran afoul of the enchantments on the Ministry building. He was pulled into the offices of the Unspeakables and is currently stuck in an artefact I believe you are unfortunately familiar with: The Arch. He appears unable to pass through it, but the enchantments won’t let him leave. We have the room under full guard, 24/7.”

“Wow,” said Harry. What to do. Was it his job anymore? He defeated Tom, with the power he knows not, his love (and more) for Ginny; the prophesy, by his understanding, was fulfilled. It said vanquish, not kill, not end. Let the others handle that. “Hermione, do you think you could explain why Voldemort is stuck to Mr. Shacklebolt? In private?”

Hermione met his stare and glanced several times at Ginny. “Are you sure, Harry? Dumbledore…”

“Yeah. I know. But he’s defeated, gone. I’m done, Hermione. We’re done. Let the others finish it. They know where we are if it turns out we’re needed.”

Hermione nodded her agreement.

“Very good, then,” said Kingsley. “Miss Granger, if you will accompany me, we can work out what it is that needs to be done to bring this to an end.”

When Hermione, the Auror, and Ron, who wouldn’t be left behind, left The Burrow, Harry stood. He filled a plate with sandwiches, and a glass with juice. Ginny rose next to him, repeating his actions, and together, the pair left the kitchen.

“Now you wait just a minute!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Get back here!”

The pair slowed their march to the stairs but didn’t stop. Harry explained, quite calmly, “I promised Ginny that when it was over and I had done what I needed, I would come back to her. So, here I am, coming back to her. I figure we should probably make sure that Voldemort is, in fact, dead.”

Darting up the stairs, they almost beat Molly’s screams. But all they heard was, “ _Ginevra Molly Weas-_ ” before they slammed her door shut and cast a wide variety of charms this time, locking and silencing the door.


End file.
